One Enchanted Evening
by BelleLitteraire
Summary: An emboldened Dot takes matters into her own hands to take her relationship with Hugh to the next level.
1. Chapter 1

Dot stared at the gleaming black galoshes, still wrapped in folds of tissue, and sighed. Her birthday had been a month ago, and she'd not yet worn them. It was now rainy season in Melbourne, and the perfect time to wear such sturdy footwear during her walks with Hugh, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to put them on. Twice during those walks, she had caught him casting surreptitious glances at her feet to check if she was wearing them. If he was disappointed that she was sporting her serviceable lace-up boots instead, he didn't let it show.

Every time she pulled the box from the depths of her wardrobe, she invariably pictured him as he presented his gift to her. Hugh had a pleasant, open face and a genuine smile, and that evening, he had looked equal parts earnest and shy. She remembered how his eyes lit from within as they searched hers, looking for a reaction that mirrored his: that she was as thrilled to receive them as he was to give them to her. She knew exactly what Ma would think—that Hugh's gift was a proper token from a gentleman to a lady. A lady being courted could only accept certain items as gifts without compromising her reputation. Gifts such as candy or flowers, perhaps even a book of romantic poetry were perfectly acceptable. But to receive a pair of boots was not only practical, it was a mark of respect. It meant that Hugh thought she was a proper nice girl.

Lord! Was she still considered a nice girl? Dot continued to write dutifully to her mother and to go to confession at least once a week. She was diligent about her commitments to the sewing group and to baking for the church fundraisers every month. She made sure that with every letter home, she enclosed a portion of her earnings for her mother and her younger brothers and sisters.

But Dot knew in her heart of hearts that ever since she'd found a new place as Miss Fisher's maid, she was committing grave sins of omission. She knew it would break her mother's heart to know that not only was she using the telephone (and by now she had no qualms about doing so), but she was also assisting Miss Fisher as a fellow sleuth. She had even worked undercover at a factory, lying her way towards the investigative pursuit of murderers, swindlers, and people embroiled in scandalous affairs. When Miss Fisher gave her the assignment, a feeling of dread washed over Dot, and she could hear her mother's voice warning her that factory work was not for nice girls. The biggest secret she kept from her mother was her growing admiration for Hugh, who was a devout Protestant. At first, she felt guilty about stepping out with him, and she had been cautioned more than once in the confessional that she shouldn't associate with him at all. But how could someone so handsome, so sweet and kind, be likened to the devil himself? Dot couldn't understand it. She thought herself a good judge of character. In Hugh she saw a man with good prospects in the police force, an inspector-in-training who witnessed the uglier side of humanity on a daily basis. Hugh was not yet hardened by police work that he couldn't spot the difference between the decent and the damned. He had a keen sense of duty, was energetic, strong, and ready to serve. Dot smiled at the thought—those qualities were all very good reasons why she admired him so much, but then her eyes fell back to the galoshes. He might not be the most imaginative man when it came to gifts, but Dot knew there was so much more potential in Hugh, just waiting to be unleashed.

She had been seeing Hugh for almost a year now, and he hadn't attempted anything nearly as bold as when he kissed her in the theatre. She had stood before him, just inches from his own body, so close that she could smell the faint scent of his shaving soap and of the wool of his uniform. She felt warmth suffusing her cheeks and trembled slightly—whether she felt nervous with anticipation or fear, she didn't know. Hugh had held her gaze and whispered, "You are so beautiful." No one had ever said anything like that to her before. She was surprised at first, and then mesmerized by Hugh's audaciousness. Her breath caught in her throat and her pulse leapt as she felt his soft lips and warm breath move from her ear to her cheek. She closed her eyes, every nerve tingling as his lips travelled over her cheek and then to the inside of her wrist. She was certain she would faint with all the frightening and new sensations that coursed through her. She didn't remember how she willed herself to stand so still, but she wanted so much to tear at the buttons of his uniform and press her palms beneath his coat into his chest. When he finally pressed his lips against hers, she unthinkingly wound her arms around his neck, feeling dizzy and breathless. _We must stop,_ she thought, but her body betrayed her, telling him that she didn't want him to stop.

And then, the spell was broken, as Hugh pulled away. Dot's eyes flew open and Hugh, with a pained expression, took hold of her wrists and pulled her arms from his neck. His breath was ragged, as though he'd run for miles at top speed, and his face was flushed crimson. "Dottie," he gasped. "Please forgive me."

It had taken a moment before Dot could get her own bearings. "What for?"

"I…I didn't mean to take such a liberty. I got carried away and I'm sorry."

"But, Hugh…" she started to protest.

"It won't happen again." Hugh avoided her eyes. "I don't want you to think I don't respect you. Because I do, Dot."

"Oh." Disappointed, Dot drew back and raised her hand to her lips. It all seemed rather anti-climactic as she couldn't think of anything to say. To encourage him and to tell him that it was all right would definitely have meant that she was not a nice girl. Hugh never attempted such a liberty again, but Dot discovered that something in her had been breached. She found herself wanting more, much more….

**x-x**

Was it sinful to have wanted Hugh to take another liberty? Perhaps living with the bohemian Miss Fisher was causing her to shed, inch by inch, her moral standard. Or…was it all just the opposite? Was being around Miss Fisher and having new experiences allowing her to grow more confident? To be a new woman in the postmodern world?

She bit at her bottom lip. What was it that Miss Fisher was always telling her? "To make it in a man's world, my dear, you've got to get out and take the bull by the horns." Well, she decided, Hugh needed another nudge. If she hadn't asked him to the policemen's ball she would never have become his sweetheart today. Dot made her way into Miss Fisher's room for a few things that she knew her mistress would not mind that she borrowed. Miss Fisher was out on an all-night stakeout with Cec and Bert, Janey was back at boarding school, and it was Mr. Butler's evening off. She had the whole house to herself. Forget the galoshes—Dot Williams had something else in mind to wear for Hugh Collins tonight.

**x-x**

Seated at her dressing table, Dot pulled her long, wavy brunette hair up, trying to imagine what she'd look like in a sleek bob. Having had lots of practice styling Miss Fisher's own shiny black hair, she'd no doubt she could maintain such a hairstyle. She pinned it up in the usual manner, leaving out one or two hairpins (in case she had to hastily take her hair down). She applied the thinnest coat of Miss Fisher's ruby-red lipstick, and then blotted out most of it so that the red faded into a pearly pink. Then, she slipped on another thing borrowed from Miss Fisher: a powder blue silk dress adorned with beading on the bodice as delicate and intricate as a cicada's wing. Dot looked at this new girl staring back at her in the mirror. Used to seeing herself in prim, floral dresses, she felt shockingly bare, with her exposed shoulders and calves. She swayed and turned, a smile playing at the corner of her lips as the skirt flitted up lightly, showing her knees. Dot had a dancer's legs that tapered beautifully into well-shaped ankles. She gently tugged at the black leaf patterns on the bodice. The cut of these flapper dresses favored slim girls with flat chests, and Dot's hourglass figure was not suited to the fashion of the day. As she spritzed a bit of scent (the least exotic, in her opinion, of Miss Fisher's array of perfumes) on her neck, her little golden crucifix shone in the ambient lamplight. Dot swallowed as she undid the clasp and gently laid the necklace in her jewelry box. She felt a slight twinge as her conscience pricked at her, for she'd never taken it off in her life. Once more, her eyes roved over her hair, her face, and then her risqué dress. Her mother and her priest might not approve of how she looked tonight, but she hoped that Hugh definitely would.

Downstairs, her voice trembled slightly as she rang the operator to connect her to the St. Kilda police station. When Hugh answered on the first ring, it sounded much more confident. "Hugh, it's me, Dottie. What time are you off duty tonight?"


	2. Chapter 2

The only sound in the St. Kilda precinct was the steady tapping of typewriter keys as the young man on desk duty typed up a complaint an elderly landlady made against her tenant. Hugh Collins paused and didn't bother to stifle a yawn, and then glanced up at the clock. One more hour till his shift was over, and he could go straight home and collapse right into bed. It was another quiet night at the station, with Inspector Robinson gone home and the two vagrants he'd thrown in the cells earlier sleeping off their alcoholic stupor. Before he set about typing again, he took a sip of his hot tea and grimaced. Inspector Robinson was a marvel at crime-solving but he was second-rate when it came to making tea. He wished Dottie were here, with a canteen of strong black tea and a plate of sandwiches. Her cooking and baking were superb; there was nothing he would like better than to settle down and be happy and get fat. _She sure would make a wonderful wife someday,_ he thought. Lately he'd been trying to figure out how he could introduce her to his mother. If Mrs. Collins knew Dottie was Catholic she'd have an apoplectic fit. Time and time again his mother reminded him how important it was that he marry a girl the whole family would approve. "She wouldn't be marrying the man," she'd say sternly. "She'd be marrying the family." But the more time Hugh spent with Dottie, and the more of her lovely biscuits and cakes he ate, the more he fantasized about sharing a home with her. If only his mum could look past religion and see her for the wonderful person she was! One of the endearing qualities that attracted him to Dottie was her sweet nature, but as he got to know her, he found there was definitely something about her that was not as conventional as he first thought her to be. The memory of Dottie posing as the factory girl Martha would bring a smile to his lips and a shake of his head. Then he remembered almost losing her altogether once, when he read Miss Fisher's book on the art of seduction and he felt sure that he scared Dottie as he stupidly tried those techniques. Never again, he promised himself. He respected her too much to try those things…well, at least before marriage.

When it all came down to it, Hugh felt that Dottie was the type of girl he would be proud to bring home to his mother, even if she was Catholic. Well, there was plenty of time to think of a solution to the problem of his mother later—now, he needed to finish typing the report.

The desk phone rang and Hugh got up to answer after the first ring. "St. Kilda police station. Constable Collins speaking."

"Hugh, it's me, Dottie. What time are you off duty tonight?"

He couldn't help but smile when he heard Dottie's voice. "In less than an hour now." He paused and lowered his voice. "I was just thinking about you."

"Oh?" Dottie asked brightly. "You were?"

"Of course I was."

"Well. That's nice to hear."

Hugh hesitated. Dottie never rang the station unless something was wrong. "But what's the matter? Is everything all right?"

"Yes…everything's fine."

Hugh waited for her to say more, and then coaxed, "Is it a case? Do you…or does Miss Fisher…?" Out of habit he picked up a pencil lying near the phone, ready to take down notes.

"Oh!" she laughed nervously. "No, it's not case related….I'm so sorry, Hugh. I'm disturbing you at work."

"Dot, you're not interrupting anything. Really. I'd rather talk to you than to little old ladies making idle complaints."

He could hear her let out a long breath before she asked, "Could you…would you mind coming over later?"

"Ah, well, I'd like to, but I'm right tired. I've got a mid-afternoon shift tomorrow."

"Oh."

"But I'm off on Sunday night," he hastened to add. "We can go to the pictures to see that new film you've been carrying on about. Or we can go to the new Italian restaurant downtown."

"That sounds lovely, but…please, Hugh, I'd really like to see you tonight. Can you just stop in for a few minutes?"

"I honestly haven't—"

"Hugh," Dottie interrupted, "I think we need to talk."

To talk? Now that sounded ominous, but Hugh knew better than to argue any further. "Very well. I'll see you in a bit."

**x-x**

The night air was crisp as Hugh made his way to the Miss Fisher's Victorian mansion. The street seemed completely deserted at this late hour. Streetlamps cast shadows over the cobblestones, where it broke apart and flowed back together again. Hugh brought a hand to his mouth to cover another yawn. These long shifts were going to get the better of him. Detective work was daunting. It was a job that could wear a young man down, make him older than his years, but Hugh believed in upholding the law, and keeping citizens safe. He knew that it would all be bearable if he had someone to come home to at night, to chase away the darkness and evil.

He was startled from his reverie by the sound of high-pitched laughter. A few feet ahead of him, a young couple crossed the road. Hugh squinted in the semi-darkness, blinking several times, and quickened his pace to get a closer look. The girl's light brown hair was cut short in the latest style, and she was clinging to her young man as though she was his second overcoat. From that angle the girl looked like Dot, but a version of her that was strikingly similar to how Miss Fisher looked. The couple disappeared around the corner, and left Hugh wishing he could turn in the other direction towards home so he could get some proper rest and stop imagining things.

The chime of the doorbell seemed loud in the too-quiet night. Hugh waited, fully expecting to see a scowling, robe-clad Mr. Butler to stare daggers at him. He opened his mouth as the door did, ready with an apology for visiting Dottie at such a late hour, but no words came out. Instead of Mr. Butler, a smiling Dottie in a fringed, low-cut blue dress greeted him. "Hello, Hugh," she said. "Please come in."

His heart did a complete flip-flop as she swung open the door and his nostrils caught a whiff of orange blossoms. He managed to take his eyes off Dottie for a few seconds to cast his eyes about the foyer. "Is everyone asleep?" he whispered.

"No," Dottie answered. "Miss Fisher and the boys are out on a case, and you know Janey's back in school."

"Is Mr. Butler asleep, then?"

"It's Mr. Butler's night off. Why are you whispering?"

"I'm not…." Hugh cleared his throat and resumed his normal speaking voice. "Why are you dressed like Miss Fisher?"

"Do you like it?" She smiled conspiratorially.

"Well, yes—"

"I'm glad. Come in and have a drink."

As Dottie led the way into the parlor, her skirt swayed with each shift of her hips. Hugh followed her like a docile child, all his senses on alert. His eyes lingered over the curves of her figure, the line of her neck and her white shoulders. He was suddenly aware of his wrinkled shirt underneath his uniform jacket, the stubble on his chin, and the lines in his face that showed how tired he was. He suddenly felt light headed, and he wasn't sure if that was the fatigue or the alluring fragrance that drifted in Dottie's wake. The idea that they were the only two people in the house was overwhelming. He sat down heavily into one of the overstuffed chairs and closed his eyes.

"Hugh? You're not going to sleep, are you?" Dottie stood in front of him holding a crystal tumbler a quarter full. "Here."

"Ah, Dottie, I don't need a drink."

"You're off duty, right?" she smiled.

Hugh felt a stab of pressure with Dottie hovering, so he took the glass. He caught himself staring at her décolletage and brought his gaze down, but now he was confronted by the sight of her legs. Clearing his throat, he decided to look at the wallpaper to his right. "What is it you want to talk about?"

"Well…" Dottie began and settled herself on the loveseat, patting the space next to her. "Why don't you sit here?"

Hugh felt his head swimming and once more directed his comment to the wall. "Ah, it's all right. This chair's fine."

"Hugh, I'm over here," Dottie called from the loveseat.

"Right," he said, swinging his head back around and concentrated on her face. Was that lipstick she was wearing?

"And you haven't taken a drink," she pointed out.

Hugh looked at the glass in his hand. "I'm not very thirsty, I guess."

Dottie suddenly felt at a loss. Hugh didn't seem to be comfortable and she wasn't sure what to do next. "Hugh, don't you want to be here?"

"No…yes, I do…I mean…" He thought that perhaps he should just swallow the drink down. He felt warm, and he was sure that it wasn't because of the central heating. "I thought you said we needed to talk."

"We will," Dottie smiled. "But we can't if you're sitting so far away and you won't even look at me."

Before Hugh even had time to respond, Dottie crossed the parlor and settled on Hugh's knee. Her unexpected action caused Hugh to spring up in surprise and the drink sloshed out, dotting the front of his uniform. "Oh creepers!" he exclaimed.

"Oh goodness!" Dottie cried, bolting up and blushing furiously. "I'm so sorry. Let me get a kitchen towel."

Hugh ran his palms over the uniform, brushing off the wetness. "No, no, I'm all right. There's no need."

Mortified, Dottie hid her face in her hands and her shoulders began to tremble silently. Hugh wrapped her in an embrace. "Dottie, it's just a uniform jacket. It's easily cleaned." She sniffed and Hugh pulled back slightly, trying to disengage her hands from her face. "Hey now," he murmured. "It's really all right, nothing to cry about. Here, look at me."

Dottie could hear the smile in his voice and it made her feel even more embarrassed, but something in his tone was reassuring and she finally brought her hands down. They were standing so close to each other, just as close as they were at the theatre all those months ago. She brought her eyes up to meet his disarmingly direct gaze and in just an instant, caught the briefest flutter before dropping her eyes to the floor.

Gently, Hugh cupped Dottie's chin and tilted her face up. That sweet unassuming look tugged at Hugh's heart and he was mesmerized by the hot blush that warmed her cheeks. The color set off her nut-brown eyes and translucent glow of her skin and he could hardly tear his gaze away from her, the perfect oval of her face. Sweet, loyal, uncomplicated Dot. He wasn't entirely sure what she was trying to do tonight, but he was pleased that she was showing a little spirit. As his eyes roved over her face, he sensed something about her, as if she was bursting at the seams, but something was causing her to hold back. There was so much more to discover about her, things about her that he thought he knew but then found he really didn't. And then Hugh was struck with a sudden clarity. Being with her felt right—no matter what mothers or priests or anyone else said. For he had found love, and everything else that worried him no longer really mattered. With his heart hammering in his veins, he decided. _I must ask her,_ he thought to himself. _Now, before my courage deserts me._

"Dottie," he began, "I have to tell you something."

"Oh, Hugh," she wailed, bringing her hands over her face again. "I know what you're going to say. I'm embarrassed beyond belief."

His eyebrows quirked up. "But you don't know what I _am_ going to say!" he said, pulling slightly back.

"I really don't know what came over me," Dot went on with a quiver in her voice. "You asked me earlier why I was dressed this way, and right now, I'm beginning to ask myself that very thing. You're wondering, 'What's gotten into Dot? This is not like her.'" Dottie gazed down at her dress. "I look ridiculous, like a little girl playing dress up with her sophisticated older sister's clothes. I feel even more ridiculous because I can't even seduce you properly. I know, you're probably wondering whether I had a drink before you even came over, and I have to confess that I did, just to calm my nerves. Goodness, Hugh, I can't even bring myself to look at you." Her words came out in a rush, and she didn't look up, afraid to meet his eyes. "I'm really sorry. This is not turning out that way I'd imagined."

"Listen, Dot—"

"You've had a long day, and I shouldn't keep you. Maybe we should call it a night. We can see each other on Sunday."

Hugh firmly took hold of Dot's shoulders. "Would you let me get a word in edgewise?" He reached for her hand and held it in both of his. Without a shred of hesitation, he asked, "Dorothy Williams, will you marry me?"


	3. Chapter 3

"_Will you marry me?"_

Hugh's words hung in the air and Dot's breath caught in her throat. It was more than what she was expecting tonight—she had wanted to give him just a nudge, but here he was making the declaration of a lifelong commitment! Her fingers instinctively reached up to touch the crucifix that she'd taken off earlier that evening, only to find bare skin in its place.

"Dot? What are you thinking?" Hugh asked in a low voice, as his fingertips reached up to touch her face. She felt her skin tingle, a buzz that matched the thrumming of her heart, and Dot leaned her head into his warm palm, feeling Hugh's own pulse leap as her fingers wrapped around his wrist. She looked into Hugh's kind eyes, and below them, at the lips she had felt so many times press lightly into her cheek. He grinned, and he had the kind of smile that made Dot feel warm inside. People say that when your heart does somersaults you are actually not feeling love, but infatuation. Whatever this was, she couldn't help but enfold her arms around Hugh's neck and reach up for a kiss. The feeling of his warm lips and his hands on her bare skin spread through her whole body and her felt herself go weak in the knees. Her blood raced in her veins, filling her with a high, pure exhilaration. She never felt more alive—a dash of the unknown only made it more interesting.

When finally they parted for breath, Hugh asked, "Is that a yes?"

Dot shook her head. "You won't like my mother, Hugh."

"You won't like mine, either, I'm afraid."

"I also have lots of faults and imperfections. Would you rather know them now or later?"

Hugh gasped in mock horror. "I'm flabbergasted. I think you're perfect. I, on the other hand, have a bachelor's living habits. You might be put off by them."

She laughed, bringing her hands down to his chest. "But in all seriousness, Hugh, do you think that what we're feeling now will last? Maybe this will fade with time. Maybe over time we'll find that we don't like each other as much as we do right now."

Hugh kissed her hand. "Or maybe with time we both discover that one cannot live without the other. We don't have many chances for happiness in life."

"I can't give up my faith. I don't think I could become a Protestant."

That gave Hugh some pause. It would break his mother's heart if he became a papist. He considered what he would be giving up, and what pain he would be causing to his family. But he also knew that Dot couldn't give up the sacraments. He knew the question of religion would loom large when they decided to take this step. It was only a matter of who would make the sacrifice.

Seeing Hugh's expression change, Dot's eyes searched his face. "So…what are _you_ thinking?"

**A few months later**

The soft violins of Pachelbel filled the church and from the narthex, Dot took a deep breath as she waited for her cue. Even as far away as she was from the altar, she could smell the bright and beautiful flowers that adorned the pews. Like bees around their queen, Dot's sisters adjusted her dress and her train, while her mother frantically searched the back of the church for her father. Amidst the fuss, Dot remained a calm and collected bride, beautiful in draped silk and in her exquisite veil of Brussels lace, a gift from Miss Fisher.

Dot peeked around the intricate wood screen at all the family and friends that were gathering on this bright spring morning at St. Andrew. She peered through the filigree of flowers and leaves on her veil and caught a glimpse of Hugh's mother, a dragon of a matriarch that did not take too kindly to Hugh's conversion to the Catholic faith. She almost didn't recognize Hugh's friends and work colleagues, who had exchanged their silver-buttoned black police uniforms for their Sunday best. She saw dear Cec and Bert, dressed in sharp grey suits, fidgeting in their pew. As Cec always looked neat and polished, Bert must have taken a cue from him for he, too, had his hair slicked back for the occasion. Seated at the front pew between the prim Mr. Butler and dashing Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was the always elegant Miss Fisher, who swatted DI Robinson's hand as he tried to loosen his tie. There was Janey in her lavender ribbons and dress, already reaching the high altar with her petal basket. And waiting there was Hugh, standing at Father Farry's right hand. Dot smiled to herself as in a few minutes, she would be joining him in front of all their loved ones. In just a few minutes she would be promising to love and honor Hugh in every circumstance. And when she crossed over this threshold, on her husband's arm, her name would be changed to Collins. She felt her heart do that somersault and she couldn't help but smile at the memory of when the journey to holy matrimony began one enchanted evening.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all the Guests and reviewers, and especially to the fellow MFMM authors who posted such kind comments. I enjoy reading everyone's imaginative contributions to this board—I can't wait for series 2 in America!


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